#his sister married a highgarden rose (not entirely by choice at first)

[hetagrammy]

ASOIAF AU Shenanigans: Alasdair went looking North for alliances after his mother's death. Lord Stark had a sister to spare, and to everyone's surprise, they worked out swimmingly.

[sansaorgana]

— LADY OF THE ROSES (II)

PART ONE || PART THREE || PART FOUR

PAIRING — Ser Gwayne Hightower x fem!Reader // Tyrell!OC

SUMMARY — Young Lady Tyrell cannot wait to finally go to Oldtown and marry Ser Gwayne Hightower who won her hand in marriage during the tournament. Her parents escort her to the wedding and she is in awe of all the effort her betrothed put into the preparations for her arrival.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — It’s written as an usual x Reader fic without describing anything about the Reader’s looks but I still classified it as an OC as well since she is a Tyrell. + You don't have to know the first chapter to understand this one. I was slightly inspired by that carriage scene™ between Penelope and Colin from Bridgerton 🤭 Also, I originally planned for this series to have three parts but it's going to have four. This chapter was already very long and I didn't get to include everything I wanted in it, so... 👀 However, I am leaving for a week on Tuesday for my summer job so I am not sure when I'll post next chapters exactly. As soon as possible, surely! 💚

WARNINGS — SMUT, virgin!reader, oral sex

WORD COUNT — 9,350 (💀)

🔞 THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

LADY OF THE ROSES (II)

Your father was a man who liked to show off – the grand tournament with your hand in marriage as the prize was one thing but your actual wedding was another. He wanted everything to be perfect for The Highgarden’s eldest daughter and he was sending heavy wooden chests to Oldtown nearly everyday. They were filled with your dowry alongside the money for the ceremony.

Your father hoped for the most grand guests as well – the Hand of The King who happened to be your future father-in-law or perhaps The Queen herself who would soon become your sister-in-law.

It all felt surreal whenever you thought of it. Despite being the eldest of your sisters, you were to get married as the last. The idea of marriage already seemed to be odd to you, let alone to a man you actually desired. And the fact his family was so important in the Realm… You were both excited and anxious and you wished to already be wed – the sooner, the better. However, your father was delaying the wedding with his perfectionism when it came to the preparations of such grand ceremonies.

During that time you were writing letters to your betrothed, Ser Gwayne Hightower. His replies were rather short and you understood that he was a busy man running Oldtown in his father’s name but also preparing it for your arrival and the wedding. Still, you were becoming more and more scared that perhaps his attraction towards you was subduing. For you it was quite the opposite – the longer you had to wait, the more your fire seemed to burn within you.

You were spending most of your days studying the books in your father’s library that even slightly mentioned The Hightower family. As a Tyrell, you had already known quite a lot about them and especially Oldtown, which was the second largest city in Westeros and certainly the eldest. Now you would help to run it as its Lady, though, so you wanted to gather as much knowledge as possible. That was how your mother found you on the night before your departure – alone in the library, behind a huge volume in a green leather cover.

“My sweet,” she sighed and sat across the table as you raised an eyebrow at her. “Both of your sisters have married out of love, for which I am grateful…”

“Does father know you’re grateful?” You chuckled at her and your mother shook her head.

It was no secret your father was not happy with your younger sisters’ choices. He was not entirely happy with yours either for he would rather see you as a Lady of Casterly Rock but he still thought your future seemed to be the brightest.

“I just wanted to point out, my darling, none of your sisters were as invested in their future husband’s families as you are now,” your mother smiled at you softly.

“With all due respect, Lady Mother, but none of my sisters had to. Olenna married a Toland of Dorne and Lya is a wife to a knight from House Sunderland. I am to become Lady Hightower,” you raised your chin a bit higher at that remark and your mother tilted her head at your answer.

“Out of all my girls you have always been the proudest,” she pointed out. “Either way, my darling, it shall be your husband who shows you and teaches you how to run Oldtown. No books will tell you the truth.”

“Perhaps you are right but I do not wish for him to think that I know nothing at all,” you sighed and put the book down. “Why are you here, mother?”

“Because tomorrow we are leaving and your father will accompany us on the way and when we reach The Hightower, we might not have time to do this so it’s better if I have this conversation with you now,” your mother cleared her throat and lowered her voice. “It is about… Gods, it’s the third time I’m having this conversation and it is still as awkward as the first time.”

“What do you possibly mean?” You asked and your heart quickened its pace inside your chest at her mysterious words.

“I shall speak to you about the duties of a wife,” your mother stood up and began pacing around the table nervously. You looked up at her, surprised.

“Won’t my husband show and teach me?” You asked her and she chuckled at you.

“Marital duty is different from running a city,” she put her hand on your arm to squeeze it. “He seems to be a kind man, chivalrous… He’s a knight, after all. But men usually show true colours after the wedding and the consummation, when it cannot be undone anymore,” she warned you.

“I understand,” you nodded. “What should I know?”

“Do you understand what is your most important duty as a wife?” Your mother cupped your face and you swallowed a lump in your throat.

“To… To be loyal to my Lord Husband. To give him heirs.”

“Sons,” your mother corrected you. “Something I have failed at.”

“Ser Gwayne has told me he does not cares about sons. He has younger brothers who might have sons in the future and his bloodline is secure either way,” you explained to your mother and she furrowed her brow.

“You have had such a conversation with Ser Gwayne already?” She looked pretty surprised.

“On the night before the last day of the tournament he followed me into the maze in the garden during the party and…”

“Gods…” Your mother let go of your face and walked away, nervously. “And you were all alone there? With no chaperone?”

“We haven’t done anything of that sort!” You quickly explained yourself.

“Of that sort! And what do you know about that sort?” Your mother looked at you and you could feel your cheeks heating up.

“I do know that I want him, mother. I want him close to me and when he’s around all I can think of is…”

“Stop!” Your mother raised her hand and you shut your mouth awkwardly, not knowing what to do. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose while taking a deep breath in. “Perhaps it will be for the better if he is the one to teach and show you indeed. Your sisters were… Different about the matter.”

“What do you mean different, mother?” You asked, furrowing your brows.

“Scared,” she explained.

“Should I be?” You tried to understand her. She was acting oddly awkward and unusual for herself.

“I only want to tell you what I told all your sisters – because your match was not picked and chosen by your father, do not expect him to run and help you when you end up mistreated. You know what he is like,” she warned you and you nodded at her. “Go to sleep, (Y/N). We have a long road ahead of us,” your mother added before leaving the library.

You waited for the sound of her footsteps to disappear before you sighed and put the book back in its place. Instead of going to your chambers, though, you wandered off and took a stroll around The Highgarden. You were not moving out far away and you would visit home quite often – of that you were sure. But still, you wanted to give it a proper goodbye. While you walked, you kept thinking of the weird conversation you had had with your Lady Mother.

You had already been growing worried about Ser Gwayne turning out to be a bad man – after all, you didn’t know him that well. And you had already been overthinking his short replies in his letters. Now, your insecurities only grew stronger.

On the next day you were finally inside the beautifully ornamented carriage of The House Tyrell with your parents who were supposed to escort you to Oldtown and stay for the wedding. You had been waiting two moons to finally go down the Roseroad and the trip itself would take about a week.

With each passing day you were more and more impatient, especially when the famous Hightower became visible on the horizon. 

“Do you know, father, that The Hightower is taller than The Wall?” You asked him once just to kill the time because, of course, he had known that already.

“And Casterly Rock remains three times taller,” he only remarked and you rolled your eyes before looking out of the carriage’s window to stare at the tall tower in the distance.

The closer it was, the more excited and scared you were. You found yourself clinging to your mother’s hand as if you were a little child again but she would only give you a soft smile.

So would the people you were passing by. It was well known already that Lady Tyrell would marry Ser Gwayne Hightower of Oldtown and the word had spread fast. At the sight of the beautiful carriage even simple peasants were waving at you and sending you their blessings. It felt kind and very uplifting. 

“I am grateful for marrying a man from The Reach,” you told your parents after receiving pretty wildflowers from a little girl in the village where you had stopped to feed the horses. “It is my greatest happiness that I do not have to leave my country.”

It was a remark at your father, of course, and he looked away at those words.

“I am glad, too, my love,” your mother caressed your cheek. “At least one of my daughters shall stay close to me.”

“Father, haven’t you already accepted my choice? Is it not the best out of all my sisters’ choices?” You asked him and reached your hand out to hold him by his wrist. “I do not wish for you to act this way in Oldtown, around Ser Gwayne.”

“I will not act this way around him and I have accepted your choice. I have given you my blessing, have I not? I have sent him your dowry and gold, have I not?” Your father smiled at you. “I am as nervous as you are, dear. Despite my nature I still love my daughters,” he assured you.

“Oh, father…” You laughed cheerfully and stood on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

“My Lord, we can go. We shall reach Oldtown on the morrow,” one of the guards approached you and your father nodded at him.

“Ready, (Y/N)?” He asked you.

“More than ever, father,” you breathed in the scent of the wildflowers in your hand and grinned at him before letting him help to get inside the carriage.

Before reaching the city you had taken a short break in the tavern where your maid and mother helped you to change into a presentable dress. It was green like the colours of House Tyrell and House Hightower. On the soft, green fabric there were many tiny roses embroidered with a golden thread. 

“For it is your last day as Lady Tyrell,” your mother sniffled her tears back while fixing your hair.

“You cry about it, Lady Mother, as if you were not a Redwyne yourself,” you pointed out and she cracked a smile through her tears.

“I am as much of a Redywne as you will be of a Tyrell soon,” she only said.

Her words made a knot form in your stomach. You could not imagine yourself as something else as Tyrell. Of course you would become a Hightower now but you would still be a Tyrell, was that right?

Was it?

With a heavy heart, you walked downstairs and went back into the carriage to finally reach Oldtown. That last part of the trip was extremely quiet and you kept fidgeting with your fingers nervously.

When the gates opened in front of you, though, you couldn’t help a loud gasp leaving your mouth. And perhaps your parents would scold you for making such a sound if their mouths hadn’t dropped as well. The whole city was decorated beautifully for your arrival and the upcoming wedding ceremony.

You were in awe at the sight of the flowers – they were everywhere, mostly roses. They decorated every house and the citizens were throwing even more of them at your carriage as they waved at you. You tried to wave at all of them but it was a hard task for there were so many of them. The road leading to The Hightower was covered in rose petals as if it was a carpet laid out for you and on every tower and every wall there were banners hanging – beautiful, green banners with a lighthouse which had a rose above it instead of the fire. Such banners had to be made for the occasion of your wedding specifically.

“I see Ser Gwayne spent well all the gold I had sent him,” your father remarked.

“I am sure he had to spend his own as well on that,” your mother teased him and caressed your arm. “I think even Queen Alicent did not have such a grand wedding,” she told you with a smile.

“Do you think she will be here?” You asked her, nervously.

“Perhaps. But I would dwell on that too much,” she nodded. “Oh, (Y/N), The Reach will not forget your wedding for a long time,” she added.

At the sight of all the effort that had been put into the wedding preparations, your insecurities and worries that your mother had planted inside of you were slowly disappearing. You just couldn’t wait to jump out of the carriage and see Ser Gwayne again.

The very thought of seeing him again in minutes, seconds away… You rubbed your thighs together in anticipation. For the past week you had been sleeping in taverns or your vassal’s properties but you had not been given much privacy. You could not touch yourself to the thoughts of your handsome knight and you were on the verge of explosion from all the yearning.

You had never felt this way for any man. Ser Gwayne had bewitched you completely and utterly; body and soul.

Your heart pounded in your chest when you reached The Hightower’s courtyard, which was as decorated as the rest of the city. Ser Gwayne was there amongst his men and servants, waiting for you. He looked as elegant as always and when the carriage stopped and you were being announced, you reached the door already but your mother’s hand stopped you.

“My dear, it is not ladylike to act so eager,” she scolded you.

You pursed your lips. She wouldn’t understand if you told her that any second now could save you from exploding. All those moments of the servants opening the carriage’s door and leading your parents out of it first, they felt like infinity. And finally, after both of your parents got outside, one of the guards offered you his hand and you grabbed it to walk out of the carriage and take a deep breath of the fresh air that smelled like flowers.

You tried your best to walk slowly and in a dignified manner when you approached Ser Gwayne. The corners of your mouth kept twitching and forming a nervous smile. It was a real torture to act so decent because you just wanted to run into his arms and hold him close.

His pretty blue eyes sparkled at the sight of you and his lips curled into a smug smirk.

“Lady (Y/N) Tyrell,” he bowed his head at you and you reached your hand out for him to place a gentle kiss upon it.

“Ser Gwayne,” you gasped at the feeling of his lips brushing your skin. Your mother’s eyes widened at that indecent sound leaving your mouth. You cleared your throat. “I am more than happy to finally be here, Ser. The city looks beautiful, you flatter me.”

“I have tried my best to greet you properly, my Lady, yet it still feels like it’s nearly enough,” he admitted.

“It is more than enough, good Ser,” you assured him with a head nod and he invited you and your family inside the castle.

As Lady Tyrell, you had been in Oldtown before and you had even been in The Hightower but you didn’t remember much of it. It had happened when you had been a child and you had been travelling quite a lot with your parents, so most of the places had just disappeared from your memory as the time passed. Now you watched in awe while Ser Gwayne was giving you and your parents a small tour around the castle. Its comfort was comparable to The Highgarden’s one, for which you were grateful since you were already used to a certain standard. 

It truly felt surreal that you would become the Lady of this castle. You already walked down the corridors with pride in your eyes, taking in every painting and sculpture, every detail. At least when you were not staring at your betrothed from the corner of your eye as your cheeks were heating up.

“And now we have reached the doors leading to your chambers, Lady Tyrell,” Ser Gwayne bowed his head at you. “I do believe you are not disappointed so far, my Lady?”

“Oh, kind Ser, far from that,” you chuckled at his words.

“I hope the chambers will not disappoint either,” he smiled at you and you nodded as you opened the doors to see for yourself.

Your parents peeked inside after you had walked inside. You looked around with a big grin. The chambers were stunning and you could feel that they had been recently refreshed. The paintings on the walls were all very feminine and on each of them there were flowers painted. The ornaments and decorations were green and yellow like the colours of House Tyrell but there was also some pink here and there. The colours made it look as if it was a garden itself and there were many plants to enhance such an impression.

“Ser Gwayne, that is impressive,” your mother commented.

“I have been trying my best,” he blushed a little but his eyes were fixated on you only. It was your approval that he cared about the most.

“It is gorgeous,” you turned around to meet his gaze. You both smiled gently at each other. “It is even better than I have imagined and believe me, Ser, I have imagined splendid things,” you assured him.

“It brings me relief to see your enjoyment, my Lady.” Ser Gwayne’s eyes were still on you and yours were on him as if your parents weren’t even there. “Those chambers belonged to my mother many years ago,” he explained. “My mother was a woman of faith,” he pointed at one of the paintings. It had flowers on it as well but it was a painting of The Maiden and she had a seven-pointed star necklace on her chest. “It was her favourite art piece. I can have it removed, though,” he told you but you did not want to hear about it.

“No, Ser. I like it,” you answered. “I want it here. It means a lot to me,” you explained.

“Are you a woman of strong faith, too, my Lady?” He asked. You suddenly realised you hadn’t even discussed the faith with him.

“I am not a heathen, Ser Gwayne. But the painting means a lot to me because it was your mother’s favourite,” you explained sweetly and the way he looked at you at that moment filled your whole heart with so much affection that you would surely kiss him if your parents were not standing there by his side.

You realised now more than ever why the chaperons were so needed.

“I shall leave you now, we both have lots of preparations to make before the morrow. Lord and Lady Tyrell, please do follow me to the guest wing where your chambers are prepared as well,” Ser Gwayne bowed his head at you and your parents followed him out of your new room.

You closed the doors behind them and looked around once more, this time without any audience. It felt like a dream, you thought. Lord Lannister would never put even half of such effort for you if you had married him instead.

The chests with your belongings were there, too, and you waited for your maids to join you and help you unpack them. In one of the chests there was a wedding dress made of white and green silk with beautiful, golden decorations. You could not wait to wear it.

You had not seen Ser Gwayne since your arrival and all your meals were brought to your chambers where you were resting after the long journey.

In the early morning, the maids you had taken with you from The Highgarden and a bunch of your new ones arrived to prepare you for the wedding ceremony.

Once you had your dress on and your hair was done and decorated, a maiden cloak in the colours of House Tyrell was placed upon your shoulders. You took a deep breath in at the sight of you in the mirror before it was time to go to the Sept.

You were taken there with your parents in the carriage of House Tyrell. The ride was not long but you were taking your time by going very slowly so the citizens of Oldtown could throw their flowers at you and give you their blessings. You were waving at them and talking to your parents at the same time.

“He revealed to me it had been his father who had wanted him to join the tournament for (Y/N)’s hand and I received a letter from Otto Hightower indeed a moon ago but apparently he won’t be here for the ceremony,” your father complained to your mother.

“That is a very long way from King’s Landing to Oldtown and he is the most important member of the King’s council,” your mother reminded him. “You couldn’t have possibly thought that he would come! Do not be ridiculous. I was expecting Queen Alicent more than anyone else.”

“Now you are being ridiculous, Lady Wife,” your father snorted at her.

“Could you stop?” You hissed at them. “It is my wedding day, I shall not allow you to spoil it.”

“In a few years, my dear, your marriage will be just the same,” your father chuckled and so did your mother but you did not want to listen to such words. You did not want to believe them.

The Sept was perhaps the most decorated building in the whole city. You could barely see it from behind all the banners and flowers. It brought a huge smile to your face. You felt more like a Princess than a Lady. You were from one of the most important families in Westeros but still, your mother had been right – such grand weddings were a rarity and yours would be talked about all over the Realm and remembered for long.

Your father led you down the aisle to Ser Gwayne and the septon as your mother followed to stand by your side as well during the ceremony. It surprised you to see no one by your betrothed’s side and it brought some pain to your heart to know that no member of his family was there for him on such a day. Not that your own sisters were there but they lived very far away. Perhaps it was the case for Ser Gwayne and his brothers, too. But you had your parents at least and he was standing there alone.

No longer, you thought to yourself, for since today you would be his family and you would stand by his side always. You smiled softly at him as you walked nervously with your father and he smiled back, looking elegant as always.

Once you stood by your betrothed’s side, your father nodded his head at him and removed the maiden cloak from your shoulders carefully. You couldn’t help but to feel as if he was taking his time with it, doing it reluctantly. Then, he walked a few steps back to stand by your mother’s side and Ser Gwayne was the one to stand behind you as he placed a cloak with the colours of House Hightower upon your shoulders. The colours were nearly the same but the difference was significant. You no longer belonged to your father but to your husband now.

You turned your head around to look into his eyes and you smiled nervously at him. He smiled back and nodded at you before standing next to you in front of the septon. 

You could barely focus on the words the septon was saying and you felt bad for it because it felt as if you were missing out on your own wedding ceremony. But standing so close to Ser Gwayne as his bride was making your heart pound in your chest and your thoughts were pure chaos. Your knuckles barely brushed and yet, it was enough to set your whole body on fire. This beautiful dress was suddenly like a prison because it was standing in the way between you and him and so were his own clothes. You kept staring at him from the corner of your eye and smiling nervously and when he noticed that, he smirked and discreetly squeezed your fingers, which brought heat to your cheeks.

Your voice was shaky when it was finally time to say your vows. You turned around to face each other and Ser Gwayne held both of your hands now, delicately. He leaned in slowly and you were genuinely afraid you would faint when he joined your lips together.

In that garden two moons ago, on the night before his victory in the tournament, you had been close too. You had nearly sinned there with him if it was not for his honourable nature. Him standing close to you, looking you up and down and teasing had been enough to set you on fire for many weeks after... To actually feel his gentle kiss upon your lips on the day of your wedding left you breathless even though it was short and sweet.

“With this kiss I pledge my love…,” he spoke softly after breaking the kiss and your eyelids fluttered while you tried your best not to mess up your own vows.

“With this kiss I pledge my love…,” you quickly followed.

“…and take you for my lady and wife,” Ser Gwayne nodded at you.

“… and take you for my lord and husband,” you squeezed his hands tighter.

The words lady, wife, lord and husband were ringing in your ears. It was such a sweet sensation and it was filling your whole body with hundreds of tiny butterflies to realise that you were somebody’s Lady Wife now and that you had your own Lord Husband. And that somebody was Ser Gwayne Hightower out of all people…

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the septon raised his hands, “for you are one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.”

The people gathered inside the Sept cheered for you and you let out a nervous but happy laugh, feeling your Lord Husband’s hands squeezing yours as he pulled you close to place yet one more kiss upon your lips.

“Lady Hightower,” he smiled at you and bit on his lower lip while staring at your own.

“We Light the Way,” you answered, trying to show him your loyalty from the very first minute of being his Lady Wife. 

“Green looks good on you, my Lady,” Ser Gwayne chuckled.

“It is my colour, after all,” you reminded him but there was no time to chit-chat in the middle of the Sept. 

Ser Gwayne walked you out of the building slowly as you both waved at the guests and the smallfolk gathered outside. A big carriage belonging to House Hightower had already replaced the Tyrell one and you got inside with your husband’s help. He followed you inside and the guard closed the door behind you, leaving you alone. The windows of The Hightower carriage were not clear at all – in fact, you could not see much of the streets from the inside and it was dark.

“My Lady…” was all Ser Gwayne managed to breathe out before joining his lips with yours again. You squealed at first because you didn’t expect him to do that but you gave in quickly.

He was sitting right beside you and his hands rested on your waist to pull your body as close to his as he managed. You placed your own hands on his chest, feeling his heartbeat underneath the fabric of his clothes.

The sounds of the cheering people on the outside were muffled since all you could focus on was your husband, devouring your mouth with a hungry and passionate kiss that was making you lose all your senses. You clinged to him because you were scared of losing balance and fainting if you ever let go of him.

You were letting out soft whimpers and moans when his hands wandered from your hips and up to your chest to squeeze your breasts. He let go of you but only for a small moment before assaulting your neck with his open-mouthed wet kisses. You threw your head back and pulled on his hair for the sensation of his lips on your throat and underneath your ear was nearly too overwhelming to bear.

Your wedding dress was pretty low-cut according to the Highgarden fashion and Ser Gwayne’s lips moved all the way down there to place hot kisses upon your cleavage, too, while his hands squeezed the soft flesh of your breasts. You whimpered and whined but you belonged to him now and he had every right to do whatever he wished with you… And you actually enjoyed it.

A simple kiss on the lips was already driving you crazy… No one had ever warned you that a kiss on the neck could light a fire even bigger.

“Gods…” You gasped when one of Ser Gwayne’s hands grabbed you by your throat. The grasp was gentle and he used it to turn your head around the way he wanted just to gain more and more access to your exposed flesh. No inch of your skin was left without a greeting from his mouth.

You were more than grateful for the fact that the carriage was moving so painfully slow for the smallfolk to watch – unaware of what was happening inside.

“I could not wait any longer,” Ser Gwayne confessed between the kisses. “I was ready to mount my horse and go to The Highgarden by myself. To steal you away…”

“My father prolonged this engagement to my own discontent as well,” you gasped and tugged on his hair, arching your back to give him more and more of your neck to kiss. “But I am yours now, Ser Gwayne, all yours,” you assured him.

“My name sounds so sweet when it’s on your gentle lips,” he turned your head around to make you look into his eyes. Your eyelids were half-open and your gaze was hazy. His thumb caressed your throat delicately. “Say it again,” he pleaded.

“Gwayne,” you breathed out and his pupils widened with desire. “Gwayne, Gwayne, Gwayne…” You kept repeating and he cupped your face with both of his hands now before joining your lips together in another passionate kiss. “I was not aware of how deep your affection towards me was,” you confessed. “Your recent letters were cold and I know it was your father who wanted you to join the tournament.”

“You chose me as your champion against your father’s will. How could I not fall in love with such fire and such spirit?” Gwayne pressed his forehead to yours. “And do forgive the tone of my recent letters. I had lots of preparations to make… I hope you can see it now.”

“Yes, I can,” you chuckled and rubbed your nose with his. “If you were not a noble knight, you could make money from preparing wedding ceremonies,” you teased him.

“Oh, but I would not care about any other wedding as much as I have cared about this one,” Gwayne pecked your lips and moved away slightly after glancing outside through the small wooden net installed instead of the carriage’s windows. “We are getting close to The Hightower,” he pointed out and fixed your hair while you were fixing his with your hands.

You smoothed out your skirts as well and that was when the carriage stopped. The servants opened the door and Ser Gwayne walked out first to offer you his hand. You held it and allowed him to help you get outside but your legs were pretty shaky. You looked up and smiled at the people gathered in the courtyard. Your parents were there already as well and your mother was looking you up and down with such intensity that you realised she had to somehow know what had been happening inside that carriage.

You looked down with a wide smile.

The feast inside The Hightower was one of the grandest you had ever been to. You were sitting by your husband’s side by a long table with your parents on your other side and watching the couples dancing as the band played. The flowers were everywhere and so were those beautiful banners of House Hightower and House Tyrell mixed into one.

You could barely swallow your wedding cake out of excitement and you were holding Ser Gwayne’s hand underneath the table, which he was squeezing here and there each time someone approached you both to wish you their best and give you their blessings.

“I do wonder, Ser Gwayne,” your father started and you shot him a glance because he was slurring his words slightly and it could only mean that he had more than enough of the wine already. “Why couldn’t your father visit Oldtown for the wedding of his eldest son?”

“Oh, please!” Your mother rolled her eyes and took the goblet full of wine from your father’s hands to put it away. “You do not have to answer, Ser Gwayne,” she smiled at your husband.

“I do not mind answering, Lady Tyrell,” Ser Gwayne nodded at her. “It is no secret my father has never favoured me. He is happy for the wedding but not enough to make such a long trip and abandon his duties,” he explained and you squeezed his hand tighter under the table to show him comfort.

“If I had a son…” Your father waved his finger around. “If I had a son… I would travel from Winterfell to Sunspear just to see him wed,” he finished.

“Stop, father,” you hissed at him. “You do not have a son, let me remind you.”

“Aye, I do not,” he continued and you clenched your jaw. “I have three daughters and I have escorted them all to their weddings. I have been to Dorne and I have been to The Vale,” he nodded.

“Lord Husband, shall we dance?” Your mother saved the day as usual, dragging him away to the dance floor.

“I am sorry,” you whispered and glanced at Ser Gwayne. He didn’t look angry, though and he just kept staring at you lovingly.

“You do not have to be, Lady Wife,” he grinned at you. You had a feeling he would call you that all the time for the upcoming days but you could not blame him because all you wanted to call him was Lord Husband as well.

“I am sorry about your father, too,” you added. “That he has never favoured you. It is so uncommon for the eldest sons to not be favoured.”

“Do not be,” Ser Gwayne smiled at you but there was a hint of sadness in it. “You just get on with it. I have.”

You nodded at his reply and looked away, suddenly wondering what kind of father he would be one day. Would he be like his own father or would he try his best not to repeat his mistakes?

You went back to your cake and began to play with it using your fork, nibbling on it here and there and swallowing it down with the wine. You had already danced with your husband in the beginning of the feast and having him so close had not helped the burning fire between your legs, however, the closer you were to the end of the feast, the more scared you were because of the bedding. You wished to be alone with your husband like you had been inside the carriage and you did not wish to have stranger’s hands all over you, undressing you and shouting obscenities.

Your sister Olenna had a bedding custom present at her wedding to her lesser Dornish Lord and it had terrified you back then. Thankfully your sister Lya had a chivalrous knight of The Vale for a husband who had refused for the bedding to take place. You hoped your knight was that chivalrous, too.

Gwayne noticed that your mood had changed, though. He leaned in to take a better look at your face.

“Are you tired, my Lady?” He asked, worryingly.

“Only a little,” you smiled at him.

“What is troubling you then?”

“I…” You took a deep breath in before looking deep into his eyes. They were so full of affection and kindness that you just decided to confess the truth. He was your husband, after all – your protector. “I do not want the bedding custom to take place,” you explained to him and Gwayne winced slightly at the very mention of it.

“I haven’t even considered it, my Lady,” he raised your hand up to place a soft kiss upon your knuckles. “No man other than me shall ever touch or undress you, Lady Wife,” he assured you and you sighed out of relief. “In fact, we can leave even now, before they start asking for it.”

You swallowed a lump in your throat.

“...Now?” You asked.

“Only if that is your wish,” he murmured, his lips brushing the delicate skin of your hand. The fire within you was starting all over again at the sight of his eyes looking you up and down so hungrily, at the memory of the shared passion in the carriage, at the feeling of his lips on your fingers now, kissing each knuckle separately.

“It is,” you nodded. “It is my wish,” you added and he nodded back at you.

Gwayne stood up and he pulled you up by your hand. When you left the table as well, your husband picked you up bridal style as you squealed and then giggled, throwing your arms behind his neck.

The guests noticed what you were doing and they laughed and cheered at you both, holding their goblets of wine high and raising toasts for your wedding night. You were too embarrassed to meet the gaze of any of them and you hid your face in the crook of your husband’s neck as he adjusted you in his arms and walked out of the dining hall to carry you upstairs and into his chambers. 

The sounds of the feast were disappearing in the distance with all the steps he was taking since The Hightower was a tall castle and the apartments of the Lord of The Hightower were on the top of the tower. They were technically his father’s but his father did not live there anyway. The steps were many but Ser Gwayne was not complaining at all about the fact he had to carry you there. He was a strong knight and he was used to the physical effort.

He opened the doors leading to his chambers with his boot and you noticed that the room had been prepared already. It smelled of rose oil, the linen sheets were fresh and the candles were lit. Gwayne placed you gently back on the floor and cupped your face delicately with his hands – rough from all the practising with his sword and horse riding. You loved the feeling of his harsh fingers brushing your skin, though. It was making you feel small, vulnerable and fragile. Like a woman.

Your husband leaned in to place a proper and passionate kiss upon your slightly parted lips. You kissed him back as you invited his tongue inside your mouth and tangled your fingers in his auburn hair. You felt his light eyelashes brushing the skin of your cheeks alongside some of the strands of his hair.

“You are the most beautiful woman in all Seven Kingdoms,” he whispered, which brought heat to your cheeks. It was far from true for you were rather ordinary but the way he was looking at you made you realise that his words had been no lie. In his eyes you truly were the most beautiful Lady.

Just like he was the most handsome knight in yours.

“It is only fair, then, my Gwayne,” you breathed out. Oh, it felt so good to address him without the formalities. “The most beautiful woman of the Realm for the most handsome knight,” you told him with a smile and a slight blush brightened his cheeks.

“You flatter me, Lady Wife,” he smirked at you and grabbed your wrists to pull you as close to his body as he could.

“I shall flatter you more, Lord Husband, for I do enjoy it,” you confessed and he moved his hands to your back as his slim fingers worked on your dress’ corset. You couldn’t be more grateful because you were very impatient to get intimate with him. “Your fingers are skilled with the corset, Ser,” you teased him.

“Us, knights, must know how to work on complicated armour pieces, therefore simple corsets are no challenge,” he winked at you and you raised an eyebrow to challenge him. “Although I have no intention of lying to you, Lady Wife. There were corsets in my life I have been untying before.”

“It does not vex me. I am grateful for your experience for I have none,” you assured him and he chuckled at that.

“In that garden back in The Hightower, I had a thought for a brief moment that you were a real vixen,” he confessed and looked into your eyes. His gaze was soft and playful, so you knew he was not cross with you.

“That was a moment of weakness caused by a reckless knight who had followed me into the garden without any chaperones. I had a thought for a brief moment that you were a real threat to my maidenhood,” you reminded him that his behaviour had not been exactly proper either.

Gwayne nodded at that and your corset loosened this very moment. He helped you to step out of your dress and he was taking his time with it, watching all the silky folds reveal more and more of your skin where he was trying to place as many of his kisses as possible.

“You are so patient,” you remarked because you barely were.

“I would not wish to destroy such a beautiful gown,” he whispered to you and took a step back to take a better look at you now, when you were in nothing but a sheer and thin underdress. “My Lady,” he gently guided you towards his bed and he sat you on the edge of it as you watched him undress himself, too. He was less patient with himself and you noticed his fingers were shaky.

“Here, let me help you,” you reached your hands out to assist him. “Is it not my duty to help my Lord Husband, whatever the task might be?”

“Such a dutiful wife already,” Gwayne smirked at you and with your help he got rid of most of his clothes as well, remaining in nothing but his breeches.

You admired his physique with big eyes as your fingers wandered all over his chest and arms to explore more of him. He pushed you down onto the bed and hovered above you to join your lips together as his hands grabbed the hem of your underdress and pushed it up, revealing your thighs and your hot core.

You swallowed thickly when Gwayne looked down but when he met your gaze again, he had such a lustful smirk on his face that it could not be mistaken for anything else. He wanted you as badly as you wanted him and you sighed out of relief, which made his brows furrow.

“I… I was scared of disappointing you,” you admitted in a whisper.

“Insecurity does not look good on you, my love,” he caressed your cheek with his finger before pecking your lips and then your neck, down to your chest.

Gwayne lifted your hands up and pushed your underdress all the way up to throw it aside. You were completely bare for him now and you instinctively tried to cover your breasts but he gave you a playfully scolding look.

“Is your body not mine now, Lady Hightower?” He reminded you while moving your hands away to place dozens of sweet kisses all over your breasts.

You gasped at the feeling for you had never imagined that it could feel so good. His rough hands roamed around the soft flesh of your inner thighs and you could feel the wetness already leaking out from between your legs and onto the sheets. It embarrassed you but Gwayne only chuckled when his knuckles brushed your wet folds.

“Gods, aren’t you perfect,” he looked up to meet your gaze again. “Let me taste you, sweet wife,” he placed one last kiss between your breasts to go all the way down.

“T-taste me?” You asked, unsure of the meaning of his words and then you gasped at the feeling of his lips right on your hot, pulsating cunt. Your eyes widened for it felt dirty and obscene but you’d rather damn your soul than tell him to stop. “Gods…” You moaned and threw your head back as Gwayne chuckled.

His hands were placed upon your thighs to keep them as open as possible while his lips devoured you between your legs with such devotion that he reminded you of a starving hound. His nose was pressed to your swollen pearl and brushing on it whenever he moved, which increased the waves of pleasure. You had never felt this way before for your hand had never given you similar sensations.

You were letting out broken moans and gasps with your eyelids shut close since your eyes rolled all the way to the back of your head. Your fists clenched and twisted the sheets underneath you and your back arched slightly to get more and more of his hungry lips.

You had not even thought of such an act to be possible and now you already knew you would get addicted to the feeling.

“I’m… I…” You mumbled out, not sure how to tell your husband about your upcoming peak.

“Let go for me, my sweet,” he moved his face away for a short while to catch his breath and lick his lips before going back to between your legs but this time his lips sucked on your pearl as his fingers gently caressed your inner thighs.

The feeling became no longer bearable and you found yourself moaning and writhing under him, nearly shamelessly, as tears of pleasure filled your eyes and streamed down your cheeks. You reached your high with his name on your lips like it was a prayer. Gwayne continued to suck on your cunt throughout your high but he stopped eventually and kissed your pearl for the last time before moving his body up.

His hands were caressing your sides to soothe you after your peak and your eyes fluttered back open to meet his intense gaze. You were trying to catch your breath as you suddenly felt embarrassed of what had just happened but he caught on that immediately.

“You’ve been good for me, my sweet wife,” he assured you and kissed away all your tears before joining your lips together in a kiss. “Can you taste it, too?” He groaned. “Aren’t you sweet, my love?”

You only nodded at him eagerly and batted your eyelashes, still too stunned to speak as your fists relaxed slowly and released the sheets from your grasp. You glanced down and noticed a wet spot on his breeches right where the bulge was. Perhaps you had no experience in such matters but you were old enough to overhear enough stories, therefore you knew what that was.

You reached out there, carefully and Gwayne chuckled at that. He kissed your forehead as his fingers kept caressing your hips.

“Take your time with it, my Lady. We’ll only start when you are ready,” he assured you as your hands reached into his breeches and you nearly froze at the feeling of his hard cock that was all wet now.

“It… It’s wet,” you noticed with a furrowed brow.

“Worry not, I have not finished yet,” he instructed you sweetly. “Do you wish to see it?” He asked and you nodded.

Gwayne got rid of his breeches and threw them on the floor as your eyes widened even further at the sight of his cock. You had seen a few in your life; walking on servants or guards taking a piss or pleasing some woman in a risky place and getting caught by you as a result. But you had no idea how you would ever be able to fit such a thing inside your cunt.

“Do not be startled, my sweet,” Gwayne encouraged you and he sat up on the bed with his back resting on the bed frame. He beckoned you over and you crawled up to him.

“Does it hurt?” You asked him while you took him in your hand again to stroke his length gently. Some of the sticky liquid spurted out from the tip of his cock and you tilted your head, observing like a diligent student.

“No, my love, it feels good,” his voice trembled a little as he raised his hand to caress your hair and your cheek. You looked up at him and you smiled softly at the sight of his hazy eyes, flushed cheeks and lips slightly parted. He looked even more pretty than usual when he was like this and it gave you courage to lean in and kiss him again. It was the very first kiss initiated by you.

You kept kissing him and exploring his mouth with your tongue as your soft hand pumped his cock but you could feel it twitching in your hand more frequently than before and you realised he had to be close to finishing.

“We should…” You breathed out after breaking the kiss.

“I know,” Gwayne nodded at you and kissed your forehead. “Lay down for me, my love. I’ll do my best not to hurt you.”

You swallowed a lump in your throat and nodded at him. You trusted him with your life already. You lied down, carefully, and watched him hover above you with a worried expression on his face. 

“You might want to hold onto something,” he warned you and you placed your hands onto his biceps with a questioning look on your face. “Yes, that’s right,” he nodded and leaned in to pepper your face with dozens of kisses.

You focused on his lips on your nose, cheeks and eyelids but the sudden sharp pain made you squeal and dig your fingernails into his arms.

“Shh, my sweet, I know, I know…” Gwayne comforted you but he kept pushing his cock deeper and deeper. His breath was shaky and you could see his eyes losing focus at the feeling of your wet and tight cunt. “Gods, you’re so perfect,” he praised you.

You closed your own eyes with a hiss of pain. You moved your hands to his back and kept on scratching him there while your hips bucked at the feeling of him filling you completely. You both were breathing deeply and remained still for quite a long moment, in which you adjusted to his size.

At the feeling of your muscles relaxing and your fingernails digging less deep into his skin, Gwayne began to thrust into you – painfully slowly but the gentleness was more than welcome. You opened your eyes again and gasped when the pain got overshadowed by the pleasure.

You cupped his face now and he opened his eyes, too. Your eyes met right before you pulled him all the way down to kiss him. His elbows were now on the both sides of your head, caging you in but it did not feel threatening at all – on the contrary, it made you feel safe and taken care of, so small underneath him.

The passionate kiss was muffling the moans and groans of the both of you and after some time you even began to move your hips as well to help him fuck you. You rolled them while he thrusted and you were seeing stars each time his cock was hitting that one sweet spot inside of you.

“Can you give me another one, my sweet?” Gwayne asked you quietly, his lips brushing yours with each whispered word. You nodded eagerly and he moved one of his hands down to rub your pearl again. “Just like that, my love, you’re being so good for me,” he assured you when your eyes rolled all the way back. “Gods, you’re even more beautiful like that.”

His praises were enough to make you reach your second peak but this time it was of a different kind – the feeling of fullness increased the pleasure and your cunt squeezed his cock tight. So tight that he spilled himself deep inside of you a few seconds later with a groan as he hid his face in the crook of your neck.

You both were laying like that for a good while, trying to catch your breaths. You caressed gently all those scratched places on his sweaty back and he was leaving sweet kisses on your neck and throat.

Eventually, Gwayne moved up to look at your face while his now soft cock slipped out of you and you whined at the emptiness.

“And?” He asked with a smug smile. “I hope I have pleased you, my Lady.”

“It depends,” you chuckled and he furrowed his brows.

“Depends on what?” He asked and you bit on your lower lip.

“Can we do it again?”

Breakfast in the morning was the last time you would see your parents before their departure back to The Highgarden. However, it was very difficult to leave the bed to get dressed and walk downstairs. You had slept barely three hours and your legs were shaky, therefore dressing you up was quite a challenge for the maids.

Despite the tiredness and soreness, you were grinning like a fool when you finally entered the dining hall. Your husband was already there, sitting next to your parents and an empty chair, which was waiting for you on his other side.

“Lady Hightower,” one of the servants bowed his head at you and you didn’t react at first but then you nodded at him when you realised he had been talking to you.

On wobbly legs, you approached the long table and your husband smirked at you.

“Good morning, Lady Wife. We are about to finish the breakfast already,” he teased.

“Do forgive me. Usually I am not so late, Lord Husband,” you explained and nodded at your parents before taking a seat next to Gwayne.

“Oh, she’s lying,” your father pointed out with a chuckle and your mother pushed his arm.

“Well,” Gwayne smiled at you with a wink, “we can surely forgive Lady Hightower for being late in the morning after her wedding.”

MASTERLIST

[visxionaries]

♠

they said that family was merely a tree in itself, whose seemingly endless branches would only continue to expand generation after generation, blessed with the fertile nature of a man and the fortune that was the wheel that would forever keep spinning. the entire name does not perish because of a single storm that shakes a branch so mightily it snaps and falls; the tree remains standing. "i did think so." he spoke, watching as a slight tug of a smile crossed over features that felt like porcelin: it was beyond grace that seemed to radiate from her.

his knife moved to cut into the steak that was upon his plate, though he kept his ocean eyes upon her as he did so.

"what does your name mean?" he asked; if they were on the matter of names, it was significant that she was the first woman he had ever met with the name illya. he had a feeling she would know what her name meant: for she seemed like she found fascination in trying to make meaning of things. ancient things. old things. there was no meaning behind them: no great sense of purpose of life itself. that did not need to be something depressing. "do you know?"

she was perfection. and perfection, more often than not, did not tend to smile: only, the sight of a slight twitch on the corners of her lips were enough to make him know he had married a woman of blood and flesh, and not a statue. as he looked upon the face of the woman he had taken to be his wedded wife beneath the watchful gaze of the gods she adored, almost devoting herself entirely to them in life and in death, in her words regarding his own family what he truly heard were a lack of words regarding her own.

"honestly, it depends on the matter." he spoke. politics and the military were one thing; and yet, their lives in terms of their emotional range, was so highly different. they were in two different parts of their personal life: and it were impossible to take on advice from such a mighty difference.

"definitely on some matters more than others. that does not mean he would not say what he intends to." a dead brother. a dead sister. the only brother that remained alive was one he could not even claim openly, who had always felt different. for he had grown up away from the ivy of highgarden, which spread and strangled and suffocated. he took a sip of the wine from his goblet, listening to the sounds of the fountains and the birds from outside the open window. there were certain ways in which the old way's culture worked, and one of them was the concept of mahr: something he had heard from mathis speaking casually in wondering what his life would ask for. what dowry she would be expecting.

"the sept has been commissioned, with the design of your choice. the architects spoke incredibly highly of your grace." it were the truth - following their audience with the queen, they had reported widely of her kind, warm graceful nature. a holy, pious woman. "i mean to extend to the buildings, to ensure there is a place for you and your household to reside upon taking pilgrimage. a place that is not old oak." his words had a ringing sense of finality. a nail to the coffin.

the connections of the king of thorns and roses was no mystery, for all knew the inner circle of the reach; the mighty council which had reached heights that were dizzying, especially considering their conquest across the sunset sea too. they had reached an all time high, their family name and power stretching out across even the storms of the sunset sea: though what remained a silent mystery, were the oakhearts of old oak.

there was a reason he had chosen to marry a noble woman of the kingdom of the reach, rather than a princess from the neighbouring kingdom of the riverlands, or even a princess from any other region on the continent: illya oakheart did not need to be a princess, in order to become a queen. and she had done so, in one easy swoop. the most powerful woman in all the realm, and a credible contender to the others. "when you picture a family of your own, what do you envision?" he asked.

"manageable enough," she said, the amber-chocolate of her eyes fluttering down from his gaze beneath dark lashes. an expression that would have been taken as meekness, had the corner of her lips not twitched upward just so. had there not been a subtle gleam, just there, in the reflecting candlelight. it would be manageable enough, eventually, but he'd never have to worry about that. to him, the transition would seem seamless -- the way her neck would flushed pink hidden by the high collar of her gown. she knew of his smile, knew of that look -- had seen it directed at her before, and plenty other girls beside that. but even she couldn't help but be effected by the fox's cream-tipped tongue.

couldn't help feel the unmistakeable pull of cedric tyrell.

but there were worse things that she could call him. plenty already did -- kinslayer, usurper, the king of thorns. there were plenty more she could call him. murderer. wife killer. when she looked up again, amber and velvet irises are steady, but soft. "i will never call you by anything less than you deserve." he'd had to make choices -- pull strings, to secure himself. hard choices, to save his people. and in those choices, he'd secured her. he'd saved her, too. illya moved on, smoothly. not because she had spoken so plainly, but because it was simply true. he had… earned her devotion. she'd given it to him, freely. she'd chosen to trust him -- not blindly, but because the respect she'd found for him on that balcony, when he had proclaimed it her choice…

"they call your mother the pearl of brightwater," she noted, waiting until he was able to complete his answer wholly before she spoke again. polite, carefully listening -- but soon, not out of practice, but instead finding herself enthralled with how he spoke of his family as the smile leaks into his words. her father, in his bid for power, had kept her far from her own. she and her brother barley spoke, even though they had shared a home and childhood. she knew she could not relate the betrayal of her father to the line of tyell succession, but she wondering if he might have felt…out of control, like a puppet on strings, in a way similar to her own childhood.

she didn't voice the thought. didn't wish to pry deeper than was her place to do so. instead, she tilted her head, but illya did not notice herself doing it. her shoulders even relaxed, just slightly. unaware of her body, now, but words thoughtful.

"it is lucky, to have people to trust such as lord omer and lady rhea. even if what drew you and lord omer closer again was a difficult circumstance." her mother had always spoken highly of the florents, before her mind slipped away. and he spoke highly of them now -- highly of the man who had married her heart's sister.

"do you often find yourself wishing, cedric?" she asked, and it surprises her, his name on her lips again. "for his advice, of course. even the smallfolk of oldoak speak of the florents and their cleverness."

[ironforgedrp]

♛   CEDRIC  TYRELL

↳ name: male, twenty seven, b. 479 AC. ↳ status: heterosexual, betrothed, no children. ↳ face claim: daniel sharman ↳ hails from: the reach ↳ loyalty: house tyrell, king emeric tyrell

↳ title: prince of the reach, lord commander of house tyrell, heir apparent ↳ religion: faith of the seven for the sake of appearance, but recently turned atheist in truth ↳ spoken languages: the common tongue ↳ reason for being in sunspear: actively seeking to consolidate house tyrell’s interests in socio-economic politics, and ensure the ancient rivalry with dorne is not ignited once again.

♛   PERSONALITY

↳ type: ENFP-T ↳ alignment: neutral good ↳ star sign: libra sun, gemini moon ↳ positives: diplomatic, charismatic, just, understanding, inviting ↳ negatives: superficial, condescending, fickle, hedonistic, afraid of commitment

♛   BIOGRAPHY

↳ family lineage

the second born son of lord rylic tyrell and his timid wife ensley, cedric tyrell had grown accustomed to commonly being labelled the spare whilst most of his father’s attention went to his older brother, emeric. it was something most younger children would be silently seething about, yet the special dynamic cedric failed to have with his own father was one cedric paid no attention to growing up. after all, one could get up to much mischief being invisible.  the boy grew up inherently free spirited, often found dangling on the tallest branches of oak trees in an attempt to skip out on his arithmetic lessons and often sent nanny after nanny fleeing the family nursery, all saying the same thing to his beloved mother. that is no child, your boy knows exactly what he is doing. they were not wrong; cedric wanted nobody getting involved in his own choices - and would do whatever needed to be done to ensure nobody involved themselves in his business.

there is a sweetness that comes with feigning ignorance whilst the world burns around you; as a young man cedric began to spend much time outside the family manor. the walls had begun to feel suffocating, as his father and brother continued to grow more sullen as they grew whilst his mother acted as though nothing could break apart her perfect family. nobody heard the fights that would stretch for hours between respectable lord rylic and his wife, or the twisted messages being drilled into emeric, who people had begun to call the lord of thorns. cedric only distanced himself further from the family, skipping dinners and keeping forced conversations short and blunt. none of these people seemed to understand him, chiding him for his lack of loyalty towards his family. but who would want to be around the mess he had for a family? it is a period of life that cedric now looks back on with a bitter taste in his mouth; wondering if he should have acted sooner rather than focusing completely on himself.

and so the double life began, as cedric reluctantly took his place in the family. being the golden son, often clearing up any misunderstandings at conferences and smoothening over any raised suspicions from fellow lords of the reach as the throne of highgarden edged closer and closer to his family. cedric developed close friendships with the sons of the other lords, and sometimes closer relations with their daughters, often spending weeks away from home going from noble house to noble house, all to keep up a good image of his family. he did this without them asking - for the sake of his own sanity. each time he would return home after some weeks ago, another family member conveniently in the way of their accession would be dead. he began to find a dark humour in it, often recanting how his extended family were dropping like flies.

his mother often begged him to return home more frequently as his absences stretched from weeks to even months, especially when his sister was married off. he knew she must have been lonely, but held limited resentment toward her for letting her husband get this power hungry. in his mind, the house was no longer a family home but a prison, made for storing the sanity of those within it. he was no fool, knowing deep down his father and brother had become something beyond her control - he cared little of what they decided to do, as long as they decided to keep him out of it. it seemed like an unspoken agreement between himself and his older brother, among other things. nobody spoke of cedric’s absences, his endless drunken nights in the pursuit of pleasure with whatever woman of choice that day - as long as he always came back to clean whatever mess was created by rylic’s loose tongue and emeric’s ruthlessness.

the day cedric returned home after a week away on horseback and saw a black flag waving over highgarden was the day his life changed, forever. he knew one of his parents had died, and a deep twisted part of him hoped it had been his father. to his shock, emeric greeted him in the courtyard  , his wife stood behind him, in the pouring rain. he informed cedric they were now orphans due to a twisted murder-suicide. cedric could not tear his eyes away from the two black shrouds engraved with green and gold roses at his feet. he did not realise he had been weeping for the first time since he was a child, the sound of the heavy rain covering his wretched sobs. with that, cedric turned and left again, praying to leave behind the darkness that had befallen on them all.

he had missed his brother’s coronation, burying his sorrows in wine and women at inns across westerns until he found himself within range of kings landing. he refused to meet his betrothed, not caring about the embarrassment it caused to the unfortunate girl. he had no home, nowhere to go back to - not yet. he was away for an entire year before returning to highgarden, questioning what would the best thing to do going forward. his return was quiet as he did not want to make a big deal of it, and he talked to his brother for politics and business only - whilst he did not know exactly why, the sight of him made his stomach twist. emeric was barely a man, just a shadow. he would not show the world their tensions, for his own safety - they must seem united. he accompanied his brother to kings landing a completely different man to  the wretched soul flea bottom had seen wandering it’s streets a year ago.

death had become a friend to his family at this point, as his sister in law died as a result of infection due to the kidnappings that had wrecked the nobles of westeros. cedric watched as those who ended her life came to justice; but what of those who had ended his? the consequence was devastating in cedric’s opinion; independence.

cedric’s own life was no longer his to live; his brother’s wife had no died with no heirs, and his brother was now king. the title of prince disgusted him. cedric accompanied the nobles of his house and his brother all the way to sunspear in the south, with reluctance to ensure things went smoothly for the sake of his own peace of mind.

↳ personality

cedric’s personality is personified by one main word: fickle. he blows hot, and he blows cold. he can make you feel as though you are the only person in the world, or nothing at all to him. it genuinely depends on when and how you catch him, and what side you’ll see of him.  some could say he is the snake in the grass - with his mask on, one would not know his world was burning around him. others could say he is a young man carrying guilt and suspicion on his shoulders, torn between wanting to find out the truth and being afraid of what he could find. cedric is intensely free spirited, and will often adapt and change to whatever is needed from him in a situation rather than calculate what to do beforehand. he is also hedonistic, one can often find him drinking in local inns or in bed with a noble’s wife. he believes you should always do what is best for you, regardless of who is hurt in the process. this can be seen in his dismissal of his intended, disregarding her completely.

he has several interests and knowledge in the subjects of philosophy mainly through cases from history, he has a broad general knowledge of the history of westeros, but extensive knowledge of the history of the reach, and architecture, he plans to commission a building of substantial size one day. he also has a limited knowledge of different artistic techniques, some of his interests include light sketching and very basic swordsmithery. 

↳ the separation of the kingdoms

cedric’s free spirited nature means he did not react favourably when his brother broke the reach from the seven kingdoms without consulting him, as he never asked for the burden that comes with kingship. the tension between him and his brother is one he will not show to the outside world, as he knows someone will try to take advantage of it. cedric has accompanied his brother to sunspear to work on trade deals regarding grain, and drawing up boarders for disputed land. he also secretly worries that the age old rivalry between dorne and the reach will once again up to fruition over resources.

♛   STATUS:  TAKEN.

[julibf]

Jonsa and the The Bear and the Maiden Fair song....

So, a few days ago @nattyslove22 wrote this meta talking about the connections of Jon and Sansa and the song  The Bear and the Maiden Fair. And I have to say this idea got stuck in my head. 

Well, someone pointed out to me that, there is another foreshadow for Jon and Sansa in   A STORM OF SWORDS chapter 7.

This is the  chapter where Lady  Olenna Tyrell invites Sansa for dinner and makes a marriage proposal to her during the meeting. She wants to marry Sansa to her oldest grandson, Willas Tyrel. The next chapter of the book? of course, JON.

But, what got my attention was no even the chapter order, it was the fact that during the meeting, where this future marriage is being discussed, Lady Olena orders the singers to sing  very loud the Bear and the Maiden Fair song, to hide their secret conversation..... the song almost drives the reader crazy for  how much in the middle of the dialogue the song gets...

The old woman called to Butterbumps. "Fool! Give us a song. A long one, I should think. 'The Bear and the Maiden Fair' will do nicely."

"It will!" the huge jester replied. "It will do nicely indeed! Shall I sing it standing on my head, my lady?"

"Will that make it sound better?"

"No."

"Stand on your feet, then. We wouldn't want your hat to fall off. As I recall, you never wash your hair."

"As my lady commands." Butterbumps bowed low, let loose of an enormous belch, then straightened, threw out his belly, and bellowed. "A bear there was, a bear, a BEAR! All black and brown, and covered with hair . . . "

Lady Olenna squirmed forward. "Even when I was a girl younger than you, it was well known that in the Red Keep the very walls have ears. Well, they will be the better for a song, and meanwhile we girls shall speak freely."

"But," Sansa said, "Varys . . . he knows, he always . . . "

"Sing louder!" the Queen of Thorns shouted at Butterbumps. "These old ears are almost deaf, you know. Are you whispering at me, you fat fool? I don't pay you for whispers. Sing!"

" . . . THE BEAR!" thundered Butterbumps, his great deep voice echoing off the rafters. "OH, COME, THEY SAID, OH COME TO THE FAIR! THE FAIR? SAID HE, BUT I'M A BEAR! ALL BLACK AND BROWN, AND COVERED WITH HAIR!"

The wrinkled old lady smiled. "At Highgarden we have many spiders amongst the flowers. So long as they keep to themselves we let them spin their little webs, but if they get underfoot we step on them." She patted Sansa on the back of the hand. "Now, child, the truth. What sort of man is this Joffrey, who calls himself Baratheon but looks so very Lannister? "

"AND DOWN THE ROAD FROM HERE TO THERE. FROM HERE! TO THERE! THREE BOYS, A GOAT, AND A DANCING BEAR!"

Sansa felt as though her heart had lodged in her throat. The Queen of Thorns was so close she could smell the old woman's sour breath. Her gaunt thin fingers were pinching her wrist. To her other side, Margaery was listening as well. A shiver went through her. "A monster," she whispered, so tremulously she could scarcely hear her own voice. "Joffrey is a monster. He lied about the butcher's boy and made Father kill my wolf. When I displease him, he has the Kingsguard beat me. He's evil and cruel, my lady, it's so. And the queen as well."

Lady Olenna Tyrell and her granddaughter exchanged a look. "Ah," said the old woman, "that's a pity."

Oh, gods, thought Sansa, horrified. If Margaery won't marry him, Joff will know that I'm to blame. "Please," she blurted, "don't stop the wedding . . . "

"Have no fear, Lord Puff Fish is determined that Margaery shall be queen. And the word of a Tyrell is worth more than all the gold in Casterly Rock. At least it was in my day. Even so, we thank you for the truth, child."

" . . . DANCED AND SPUN, ALL THE WAY TO THE FAIR! THE FAIR! THE FAIR!" Butterbumps hopped and roared and stomped his feet.

"Sansa, would you like to visit Highgarden?" When Margaery Tyrell smiled, she looked very like her brother Loras. "All the autumn flowers are in bloom just now, and there are groves and fountains, shady courtyards, marble colonnades. My lord father always keeps singers at court, sweeter ones than Butters here, and pipers and fiddlers and harpers as well. We have the best horses, and pleasure boats to sail along the Mander. Do you hawk, Sansa?"

"A little," she admitted.

"OH, SWEET SHE WAS, AND PURE, AND FAIR! THE MAID WITH HONEY IN HER HAIR!"

"You will love Highgarden as I do, I know it." Margaery brushed back a loose strand of Sansa's hair. "Once you see it, you'll never want to leave. And perhaps you won't have to."

"HER HAIR! HER HAIR! THE MAID WITH HONEY IN HER HAIR!"

"Shush, child," the Queen of Thorns said sharply. "Sansa hasn't even told us that she would like to come for a visit."

"Oh, but I would," Sansa said. Highgarden sounded like the place she had always dreamed of, like the beautiful magical court she had once hoped to find at King's Landing.

" . . . SMELLED THE SCENT ON THE SUMMER AIR. THE BEAR! THE BEAR! ALL BLACK AND BROWN AND COVERED WITH HAIR."

"But the queen," Sansa went on, "she won't let me go . . . "

"She will. Without Highgarden, the Lannisters have no hope of keeping Joffrey on his throne. If my son the lord oaf asks, she will have no choice but to grant his request."

"Will he?" asked Sansa. "Will he ask?"

Lady Olenna frowned. "I see no need to give him a choice. Of course, he has no hint of our true purpose."

"HE SMELLED THE SCENT ON THE SUMMER AIR!"

Sansa wrinkled her brow. "Our true purpose, my lady?"

"HE SNIFFED AND ROARED AND SMELLED IT THERE! HONEY ON THE SUMMER AIR!"

"To see you safely wed, child," the old woman said, as Butterbumps bellowed out the old, old song, "to my grandson."

Wed to Ser Loras, oh . . . Sansa's breath caught in her throat. She remembered Ser Loras in his sparkling sapphire armor, tossing her a rose. Ser Loras in white silk, so pure, innocent, beautiful. The dimples at the corner of his mouth when he smiled. The sweetness of his laugh, the warmth of his hand. She could only imagine what it would be like to pull up his tunic and caress the smooth skin underneath, to stand on her toes and kiss him, to run her fingers through those thick brown curls and drown in his deep brown eyes. A flush crept up her neck.

"OH, I'M A MAID, AND I'M PURE AND FAIR! I'LL NEVER DANCE WITH A HAIRY BEAR! A BEAR! A BEAR! I'LL NEVER DANCE WITH A HAIRY BEAR!"

"Would you like that, Sansa?" asked Margaery. "I've never had a sister, only brothers. Oh, please say yes, please say that you will consent to marry my brother."

The words came tumbling out of her. "Yes. I will. I would like that more than anything. To wed Ser Loras, to love him . . . "

"Loras?" Lady Olenna sounded annoyed. "Don't be foolish, child. Kingsguard never wed. Didn't they teach you anything in Winterfell? We were speaking of my grandson Willas. He is a bit old for you, to be sure, but a dear boy for all that. Not the least bit oafish, and heir to Highgarden besides."

Sansa felt dizzy; one instant her head was full of dreams of Loras, and the next they had all been snatched away. Willas? Willas? "I," she said stupidly. Courtesy is a lady's armor. You must not offend them, be careful what you say. "I do not know Ser Willas. I have never had the pleasure, my lady. Is he . . . is he as great a knight as his brothers?"

" . . . LIFTED HER HIGH INTO THE AIR! THE BEAR! THE BEAR!"

"No," Margaery said. "He has never taken vows."

Her grandmother frowned. "Tell the girl the truth. The poor lad is crippled, and that's the way of it."

"He was hurt as a squire, riding in his first tourney," Margaery confided. "His horse fell and crushed his leg."

"That snake of a Dornishman was to blame, that Oberyn Martell. And his maester as well."

"I CALLED FOR A KNIGHT, BUT YOU'RE A BEAR! A BEAR! A BEAR! ALL BLACK AND BROWN AND COVERED WITH HAIR!"

"Willas has a bad leg but a good heart," said Margaery. "He used to read to me when I was a little girl, and draw me pictures of the stars. You will love him as much as we do, Sansa."

"SHE KICKED AND WAILED, THE MAID SO FAIR, BUT HE LICKED THE HONEY FROM HER HAIR. HER HAIR! HER HAIR! HE LICKED THE HONEY FROM HER HAIR!"

"When might I meet him?" asked Sansa, hesitantly.

"Soon," promised Margaery. "When you come to Highgarden, after Joffrey and I are wed. My grandmother will take you."

"I will," said the old woman, patting Sansa's hand and smiling a soft wrinkly smile. "I will indeed."

"THEN SHE SIGHED AND SQUEALED AND KICKED THE AIR! MY BEAR! SHE SANG. MY BEAR SO FAIR! AND OFF THEY WENT, FROM HERE TO THERE, THE BEAR, THE BEAR, AND THE MAIDEN FAIR." Butterbumps roared the last line, leapt into the air, and came down on both feet with a crash that shook the wine cups on the table. The women laughed and clapped.

"I thought that dreadful song would never end," said the Queen of Thorns. "But look, here comes my cheese."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa I

During the entire conversation about the marriage, we have a singer shouting into our ears the song of the Bear and the Maiden Fair, so, lol, yes, maybe the song is all about Jon and Sansa...

[imagineattempts]

Where Love Grows

Arya Stark x female Tyrell reader

Reader is a Tyrell cousin in this and lives at Highgarden.

After arriving in High Garden Arya decided that the whole Tyrell family was really too sincere for their own good, well aside from the Lady Olenna. Willas had inquired after Sanaa’s well-being and if he still hoped to wed Arya’s sister he kept it to himself, more than happy to content himself to peppering Arya with questions about Direwolves and their habits. He seemed fascinated and she had noted the affection he lavished on his dogs and the pride he had in his hawks. She had decided that if he did want to marry Sansa it wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Garlan had been equally friendly although less interested in subjects she cared about.

Now, Arya stood scowling in the vast banquet hall at Highgarden. It was too warm in the Reach for the furs and leathers she preferred to wear. Instead she was in a deep green dress that reached her midcalf and dark leggings. She was grateful for that much at least. The dress was relatively plain and it still allowed her freedom of movement albeit less than her own clothes from home would have. She knew that Sansa was right, as a Stark she was the best choice for an ambassador. The pride of the Tyrells would have been insulted had Sansa sent another. But that didn’t mean she had to like it here. She looked down at her cup of wine and took another sip. She was still on her first cup while many of the men in the hall were well into their fourth or fifth. Arya preferred to keep her wits about her. Especially because the pretty girl seated next to her seemed to have made it her mission to make Arya blush as often as possible. Arya was unused to compliments and the sincerity wit which Lady Y/N gave them only made things worse. Arya wished she could blame the compliments on Lady Y/N being drunk but the girl next to her, had not yet finished her own cup of wine. She seemed to be making a game out of only drinking when Arya did. When the banquet drew to a close and Arya rose from her seat she found Lady Y/N beside her. The other woman leaned in close and whispered “Meet me in the rose gardens tomorrow at noon.” And then in a sweep of her silken skirts she was gone.

Back in the chambers she had been given Arya lay awake trying to puzzle out what Lady Y/N had meant with her cryptic invitation. Had she just been invited into some political scheme or alliances. Or was this to be a more private meeting? Confused and annoyed Arya fell asleep trying to decide if she should even show up in the Rose garden tomorrow.

Arya stood facing the rose garden several minutes before noon. Her checks flamed red as she began to suspect the invitation was nothing more than an elaborate joke at her expense. She couldn’t help but feel relieved when Lady Y/N finally showed up. Arya noticed the other girl looked quite different her hair held back in a simple braid instead of the ringlets she usually wore. And she wore a plain dress and apron both sprinkled with dirt as well as gardening gloves. Lady Y/N gave a satisfied grin as she studied Arya. “Good you came.” She declared adding “follow me. Arya followed her through the roses until she found herself in the center of what seemed to have been a circle made of rose hedges. Lady Y/N looked rather pleased with herself a satisfied smirk on her face. “This gardens mine”.

“It’s lovely.” Arya replies confused. Had the other girl really asked her here to show her more roses.

Apparently not for Lady Y/N rolled her eyes. “I thought you might want a quiet place to practice your swordplay away from prying eyes. Well maybe not away from my eyes”. She added boldly.

Arya looked at Lady Y/N “So your giving me the use of your garden? Why?”

“Isn’t it apparent to you? I like you that’s why.”

Arya gaped at Lady Y/N. “Lady Y/N why are you doing this?”

“So you’ll call me Y/N of course”. The other girl declared with a winning smile.

“Thank you”. Arya told Y/N.

“Of course I’d appreciate if you avoid killing my roses as much as possible”. Lady Y/N continued in a tone that suggested she was talking about the weather and not giving Arya permission to do something she had sorely missed since her arrival in the Reach.

Looking at Lady Y/N’s smirk Arya couldn’t help but smile herself. “How can I thank you.”

“By being happy here.” Lady Y/N replied without hesitation.

“Does my happiness really matter that much to you?” Arya asked trying to remember the last time someone other than her siblings or Brienne, or maybe Gendry had truly cared about her happiness.

“Yes” Lady Y/N replied placing a hand on Arya’s cheek.

And Arya leaned in and pressed her lips to Y/N’s.

“I’ve been trying to get you to do this since you arrived here” Lady Y/N confesses before leaning in once again to kiss Arya.

“So when you suggested a place away from prying eyes where I could practice my swordplay?”

“My motives weren’t entirely altruistic I admit.”

Arya just smiled and went to kiss Y/N again.

[born-baratheon-way-blog]

Willas Tyrell/OC

(A, Stark girl, an Original Character, betrothed to Willas Tyrell, meets him at Highgarden. She enters the courtyard on her horse, her knights riding behind her.)

What Willas saw that day, was exactly what Willas expected. She was tall, like he heard the Starks are, and she had that long and pale Northern face, and those cold serious eyes. She's pretty, he thought, though the type of her beauty scared him. A harsh beauty. She looked to him like.. ice princess.. The Queen from the North. And he was just a Southern cripple..

A good looking cripple, Serena thought. She noticed his perfect curly hair and his greenish eyes, warm, oh so warm. He stood tall and proud, his hands behind his back. He didn't smile though, so she started to worry. What if he thinks I'm not pretty enough? She knew she looked out of the place, with her dark hair and pale skin, with her direwolf and her Northern knights.

She climbed off her horse, alone, refusing anyone's help, and she approached her soon to be husband with slow, but sure steps. I am a Stark. she thought. I am brave.

"Lady Serena." he said softly, trying to hide his discomfort. Gods, she's so young, too young.. That was the first thing he noticed about her, even before her Stark face, and dark hair.. so dark, black almost. "Welcome to Highgarden." somehow he managed to say.

"My lord." she smiled and bowed to him, like a proper lady, something that Willas, the future Lord of Highgarden, forgot to do. Idiot.. he thought about himself. At least you could bow your stupid head to her, if you cannot kiss her hand, or even force a smile on your stupid face. Fortunately for him, his little sister Margaery did the 'smiling part' .. and not only that. "You're beautiful!" she commented, and before the confused girl before him could say anything Margaery Tyrell jumped to hug her. "T-Thank you." she answered after a while.

He offered her his hand, scared that his sister would offer her her own, and slowly, because he can't be quick, even if he wants , they walked to his grandmother, his father, mother, his brothers and sister in law. He introduced them, and it seemed to Serena, that they liked her enough.. judging by their polite smiles. Why doesn't he smile??

Once they were inside and seated, Lady Olenna started a long anticipated conversation "They said you look like a winter rose. Well you certainly smell like one." she commented "And roses are welcomed here, as you already know. We don't have those.. dangerous words like your family, but, somehow I think you won't be disappointed. Seeing you here and now, sitting beside Willas, I think we all made a right decision by accepting your father's proposal. Don't you think so, blue rose?"

Serena sighed. It was her mother's proposal actually. Father wanted to wait a little longer.. Although she did bleed, her father still consider her child. So her mother did the only right thing. She reminded him that winter is coming, even though he was the one who always reminded that winter is coming. And well, The Reach is fertile and.. rich, so her mother's idea, was an excellent idea after all. The North will need, food.. plenty of it.

"Yes.. I do." It was the only correct, the only right answer. Marrying the heir of Highgarden was the right decision, mostly because she heard from people her lord father trusted and loved, that Willas Tyrell is nothing but a good man, honorable and responsible, just like her father. Cripple, or not, if he's going to be good to her, she'll be the best for him. Serena knew very well that women in her society didn't have a choice, but to marry whoever their fathers choose. And most husbands aren't good husbands.

"You look like your aunt." was one of the many compliments she received that day. "Exactly like her!" Willas' father is cheerful old man, and he likes to talk, that much Serena understood. "Thank you my lord." she said in return, although she couldn't know for sure if he was right about her aunt Lyanna. Father never spoke about her, so Serena didn't know much about her looks and character.

Margaery was similar to her lord father, always smiling and having something nice to say, something warm. She called Serena 'grey-eyed beauty'. Willas' mother seemed like a nice lady too, very much similar to her own lady mother. And his brothers as well were polite to Serena. Suddenly she looked at Willas, confusing the look on his face for his.. arrogance? He's the one I will marry and he looks the least interested in me.

What she didn't know is that Willas was nervous actually. Nervous and annoyed. Why did he have to say that? Is it really so necessary to remind the Stark girl of her house's tragedies? Oh he was so nervous, almost as he wasn't himself anymore.

"My lord." he heard her calling him "Have you ever been in the North?" it was a stupid question. If he was she would've known. Her family rule that land. Or maybe.. since he is older than her, since he actually is in his late twenties, and she's barely ten and five, maybe he was in the North, before she was even born.

"No, I haven't." he said "But I'd like to visit it, someday.. with you." only then he remembered to smile, and Serena saw how his entire face changed from beautiful, to unbelievably beautiful. He looked like a prince.. What? Serena, calm yourself! Seven hells, you're not Sansa!

"Would you like that?" she heard him ask. He noticed those strange emotions dancing across her noble face while he spoke earlier.. Was it attraction? Whatever it was it brought redness to her white cheeks, and bravery to his tormented soul.

"Would I like.. what, my lord?" she asked him, confused. Something changed, he speaks to me, he looks at me!

"Us to visit Winterfell in the future? Us traveling together around the world? Do you like to travel?" he asked her, giving her more and more of those smiles.

"I never left Winterfell, before.. this.. all of this." she took a cup of water that was in front of her. "But I'd like that, yes." she said and drank the cold liquid like she was thirsty for years.

Sending her this far south alone, was cruel. Well she wasn't really alone, her knights, her maids were with her, but what Serena meant by 'alone' was without.. family. "They will be your family from now on. You have to get used to it. And you know that I can't leave Winterfell now when the King is on his way here." She saw sadness in her father's kind eyes, but also determination "Make those Tyrells like you for what you are - Stark. Take your favorite horse, wear your Stark colors, lead our men.. and make me proud. Remember, please remember that you are a Stark." he said to her.

The Tyrell was now holding her arm, not a Stark, and tomorrow night, I will be Tyrell also, she thought. Will people remember that I am a born Stark? Does anyone remember what Queen of Thorns was before she married a Tyrell? They are powerful, she thought. Their castle prove that, their land prove that.. No, I am a Stark, I will always be Stark. I will wear my colors and my symbols and I will remind them every day. Seeing all those flowers and all that gold only made her even more homesick. Sansa would be amazed, but she wasn't Sansa. She missed snow.

"That animal you brought.. It's a dog, w-wolf maybe?" Willas was escorting her to her chambers. He held her hand close to his chest as he remembered the dog looking creature he saw in one of her maids' arms.

"Direwolf." she murmured. Oh how she missed her home, her land, her parents and her siblings.

"Does it have a name?" he asked question after question.

"Ice.. Like her pale eyes and my father's sword." she said "Would you like to meet her? She's still just a puppy."

"You think I'm afraid of her?" he stopped walking for a moment, staring at Serena strangely "I raise animals, my lady. I can assure you that I know how to deal with them.. even the wild ones."

Even the wild ones? Somehow he managed to sound suggestive to her. Was he talking about my direwolf, or me? Does he consider me to be some kind of a wild Northern girl? Like something exotic, something that needs to be tamed? A wildling? These Southerners.. This was exactly the reason why her mother insisted that she needs to marry a Tyrell. They all think of us as strong, wild people, who can survive winter on their own, without anyone helping, she thought. Well maybe we could, but since we belong with the seven kingdoms, we don't have to.

"My lady.." his voice brought her back to reality. He stood there, that crippled Tyrell, and he held her hands, while looking deep into her grey eyes. Her mother said that because of his.. disabilities, Willas Tyrell had difficulties with finding a spouse. Of course he is the heir to a great house, but many people suspected that he won't live long enough to become the Lord of Highgarden. Maybe he'll kill himself, they thought. So it isn't a surprise that Garlan, his younger brother, married before him.

"Yes, my lord?" she looked at him for a long moment before he decided to speak "We talked about your direwolf.. Ice." he reminded her "I would like to meet her." he said.

"Are you sure my lord?" she teased "Ice is dangerous. A she-wolf from the North.. they're all pretty, but still deadly." now she was the one who sounded suggestive, and very intently, for some reason.

Something sparked in Willas Tyrell's eyes and he moved closer to his Stark girl.. so close, that their faces were now only inches apart "Pretty you say?" he murmured. Gods, his eyes, those cheekbones, his lips! she admired every inch of his face, and she really couldn't believe that a man this beautiful like Willas Tyrell couldn't find a wife. And what about his leg? He could charm anyone by only his pretty face, she though. She even thought that he was better looking than her.. a girl.

Fortunately for her, Willas Tyrell didn't share her opinion. He though that she was too good for him, too young and too pretty. He was scared that she won't like him, ever! He was afraid that he won't be able to make her happy. And so he decided, that he'll try his best, he will give everything, everything he can, just to please this girl, to make her forget about his leg, about his nervousness when it hurts, oh sometimes it hurts him so much that he wants to end his life! Hopefully, this Stark girl, will give him something in return.. at least a little bit of her Northern strength.

He brushed a strand of dark hair behind her ear, then lifted her chin, saying "May I have your permission to kiss you, Serena?"

The way he said her name.. "Yes." was all she could say, and so they kissed. They kissed gently, they kissed slowly, and in that moment Willas knew I want her, I want the Stark girl!

And now Willas was in her chambers, which was completely out of protocol. "There she is." apparently he became excited when he saw her little direwolf "Oh she's so precious." he said, provoking a smile on Serena's face. Good, she thought, he likes animals, we have something in common.

"Be careful. She's still a wild animal, my lord." she warned him, but Willas Tyrell didn't seem to care "Because of my leg.. I can't-" he started unsure "Could you take her and place her in my arms?" he asked his future wife, and she looked at him with wide eyes "Y-Yes of course." she answered. He was braver than she thought. And with the little wolf in his arms, Willas reminded her of Robb, and Jon, Bran and Rickon. She fought her tears back, and with a gentle voice she said "My direwolf seems to like you."

To be continued... :)